


Tantalus and the Private Sacrament

by nonky



Category: Nancy Drew (TV 2019)
Genre: F/M, Season/Series 01
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-08
Updated: 2020-03-08
Packaged: 2021-02-28 23:21:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23065396
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nonky/pseuds/nonky
Summary: She should shut him out and forbid his help. She should alienate him with a lack of encouragement, and try to treat him only as politely as Bess's cousin. Her hands were sliding over his hair, feeling how handsome he was in the lines of his jaw. Her body had a triggering weakness when he lifted her, steady with the injured arm. She wrapped her legs around him. The kisses were like having tiny tastes of something exquisitely tempting. She kept after his mouth as they moved, aware only after their shirts were off that anyone had touched clothing.Spoilers up to Episode 15, warning for sexual content. Note the pairing in the tags.
Relationships: Nancy Drew/Owen Marvin
Comments: 8
Kudos: 22
Collections: Nancy Drew TV Series (2019)





	Tantalus and the Private Sacrament

Nancy had every intention of dropping Owen off quickly, making sure he was okay, and walking away. 

He could have died. It wasn't worth Owen's life to have justice for Lucy. She needed her father, but she could find another way. There had to be practical evidence somewhere that could do what she needed. There was no such thing as a perfect defence. There only needed to be reasonable doubt of his guilt. 

She kept trying to leave him, but wanting to make sure he was inside the house and then near the bed so he could rest. Touching him wasn't a plan, and not being able to stop once she did knocked all her logic away. Nancy hugged his bandaged arm to her body. She was looking up at his face, holding on to how he looked alive and without a bloody trail circling his forehead. 

She didn't know what it meant, but her legs no longer moved. Owen agreed with her as she mumbled nonsense about having to go. He was so agreeable, ever helpful and eager to put up with whatever awkward circumstance she inflicted. He really didn't seem to mind her stranger moments and sudden pivots after a new lead. 

Nancy had to kiss him. He was alive, sweet breaths puffing solemnly over her lips. It was wasteful not to sip them and hold them, fill her lungs with evidence Owen Marvin would live to do her another favour. 

She should shut him out and forbid his help. She should alienate him with a lack of encouragement, and try to treat him only as politely as Bess's cousin. Her hands were sliding over his hair, feeling how handsome he was in the lines of his jaw. Her body had a triggering weakness when he lifted her, steady with the injured arm. She wrapped her legs around him. The kisses were like having tiny tastes of something exquisitely tempting. She kept after his mouth as they moved, aware only after their shirts were off that anyone had touched clothing. 

Nancy knew there was a pause, a moment of import she was meant to fill with a stopping point. She ground on him instead. It was more humiliating need than consent. She yearned. 

Owen was holding her up, his grip firm and massaging the flickering arousal to circulate. She didn't know how to work the logistics of up or down. He bit her lip and crushed her to the bed, and she liked both so much. She liked him, for all the genuine smiles while she imposed on his busy days, and all the messages she'd ignored to make a stupid point about her independence.

He was so male, smooth but animal. Her hands slipped over him with heightened awareness. The places he was too broad to span she rubbed her palms to meet, kindling something like static charge that jumped to hormones when it zinged away past her touch. 

God, he moved hard but carefully. He had gotten her jeans open and slightly down. His own pants were unbuckled and she knew it was time to interrupt for a condom. She was still moaning and rolling her neck after his mouth, begging sips of his air until her lungs could sustain on just what she'd stolen from Owen. He was speeding up, the bed springing underneath them. A jolt got them up and onto pillows, where he could let her down long enough to break away. 

“I don't think I can wait long enough to take you to dinner,” Owen told her. “You should insist.”

He bent down to her, mouthing along the edge of her bra and gasping as she kept him rubbing through her jeans. His cock was edging out of his clothes, and Nancy reached for him between their bodies. 

“Stupid, how could that matter as much as anything you did for me today? I need you now,” she said. 

They both seemed to break at the same time. Owen rolled to his back away from her, and she used the moment to shove at her pants and underwear. Nancy kicked until her shoes fell off, and they were both naked when Owen rose above her with his knee bent to hold himself up. He had no finesse for anything beyond a thumb thrust four blunt twists up inside her to feel for the wetness they could both smell spreading from her pussy. 

She knew he tried to keep the next kiss gentle, understood he was coaxing her body instead of giving her the first burning thrust that would make it better. Nancy tried to appreciate the momentary seduction, but she was dragging with want. Even the expensive bedding underneath her felt unpleasantly damp and clinging. She wanted just Owen to touch her, and had no use for comfort of pillows or consideration. 

Nancy's hands had to be jerky and too cold, but he let her work him to a seeping tremble in her hand. She urged him down and angled to fit, and Owen eased inside with a noise she echoed while bracing with her shoulders. He let her squirm and whine until the heat of penetration was settled across her racing heart. 

“Go hard,” Nancy mumbled. 

She knew he was bare inside her, and it couldn't matter enough to delay. Now that they were joined, she could get her arms around him and the sleek run of muscles was her only puzzle. She tried to comprehend the grappling curve of his hip bending her to be more yielding. She tried to read his fortune from the length of his spine, finding only youthful strength. She kissed and kissed Owen, aware of her own noises like a kittenish plea to his roar – even imagined from the odd rumble of exceptional strain as she closed on him. 

There was no question of coming or not. She felt it from the first moment of contact. It had only lacked the power of Owen's thrusts to build her to it, sizzling and jarring along his length until he let her have her way. Nancy shook and pealed underneath him. She knew he led her hips for a moment, getting her back from a shaky moment of anguish that crept in with another chill of death. She clamped on him and demanded hotter blood than the ocean, more than demons knew of sacrifice. Where evil could call on him to die for favours, Nancy held a woman's right to ask him to live for her, and live on through her. She slapped her hand low to his back, dug fingers into the pump of his willingness to please. 

She arched, hard enough to pull at her own hair under her shoulders. Owen had to be watching her. She could feel it like one of her ghost traps had gotten him one day, and he could be called upon in spirit when he wasn't physically there. Her rhythm suffered a stuttering end as he finally presumed to pull her bra down and drag both nipples roughly into cooler air. 

Thrusts became sharper, a flexing thump of cock the only unsteadiness Owen allowed in his focus. He made her come and Nancy dug her heels into the bed to try to meet it. She went under him and below a wave of pleasure, knew she screamed only by the instinct to bury her mouth into the meat of his arm instead of deafening him. He came with a frenzy of motions she lost, bewildered to find herself on top of him once it ended. 

They had both worked through the panic somewhere in the heat of the bed, and Nancy was aware of all their limbs having paused exactly where they'd been in the last insensate clench. She had Owen in some kind of headlock, a fist around a handful of his hair and her other hand cupping his jaw. His grip was slightly gentler. One big palm was kneading at her ass, the motion hitching her nicely on his softened erection. She was shuddering with a little disappointed emptiness. Owen had pulled out, and a warm slickness suggested he'd thought more about her protection than she had. 

By chance her hair had ended up slung over to one side of her neck, giving Owen a large, tender span on the other side where Nancy suspected he'd bitten her more than once. His free hand had crossed behind her back, splayed flat and trying to do the work of the ignored blankets. 

“You could have died,” she said. As far as she recalled clearly, it might have been the first words since they'd walked into his bedroom. “I know you say you're okay, but I can't make sense of it.”

Owen's voice was deep in a harsh way that sounded painful. “Now you know how I feel,” he said. 

If it was meant to turn the moment lighter, her frightened whisper ruined the effect. “Do I?”

His mouth twisted in a frown before he kissed the side of her throat, speaking gruffly. “I think maybe you do.”


End file.
